


Christmas Traditions

by CosmicLoveCrime



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Gift Giving, Kissing, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27826513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicLoveCrime/pseuds/CosmicLoveCrime
Summary: Hannibal and Will usually refrain from celebrating the holidays. However, this year Hannibal decides to change that. Both find this the perfect time to their push fears aside and profess their love through gifts.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 9
Kudos: 83





	Christmas Traditions

Will Graham’s boots crunched on the snow as he stepped out of the truck. Encephalitis, which Hannibal had dubbed Sephie since he didn’t find the name Will selected for the dog remotely humorous, jumped out and followed him towards the cabin.

Will walked through the front door, the festive smell of cinnamon and fresh orange hit him. As usual, Sephie ran towards the kitchen with her tail wagging to go greet Hannibal, hoping to sneak a treat from him.

When Will reached the living space, the gigantic tree sitting there had him dumbfounded.

“H-Hannibal” Will asked hesitantly, for a moment thinking he had stepped into the wrong house.

The man stepped into the room wearing a light blue shirt, rolled up at his elbows, and an white apron around his waist, indicated that he had been cooking. Hannibal gave an inquisitive look to Will as he removed the apron and walked towards him.

“What’s all this?” Will exclaimed, waving his arms at the tree and the other Holiday themed foliage he was now noticing. Boughs of Holly, Ivy, dried oranges, and pine conessat on the table waiting to be formed into decorative pieces.

“Good evening to you too, Will. It’s the 23rd of December,” Hannibal stated as if the date explained the change to the space, he neglected to acknowledge the fact that they did not usually celebrate the holidays.

“And?”

“It’s often custom and tradition to decorate and celebrate around this time of year.”

“We don’t do traditions.” Will huffed keeping an eye on Sephie who was now sniffing around the tree.

The last time Will had a Christmas was with Molly and Walter. Will shut down thinking about his past life before the guilt wracked through him again.

Hannibal and Will had been tiptoeing domesticity for the last couple of years. Sometimes Will felt at peace in a way he never had before. Other times it felt as though they were waiting for the inevitable other shoe to drop. They were akin to an old couple, silently communicating and knowing what one another intended to do before the other had even had the thought. One aspect of their arrangement was slightly different to this comparison; the closest intimacy they had experienced was when Will was elbows deep in viscera. That was when Hannibal looked at him with pure worship and admiration in his eyes, fully honoured at being witness to Will rejoicing in their shared darkness.

After the first time that occurred, Will indulged in recalling that cherished look as he pleasured himself alone in his bedroom. After he climaxed, Will admonished his reflection in the mirror and could barely look Hannibal in the eye for an entire week. However, the more Will started to let go of the guilt of killing the previous version of himself, accepted his enjoyment of destroying the most loathsome individuals of society and adjusted to his life with Hannibal, the more Will started to actively engage in those feelings. Hannibal had become a staple of Will’s fantasies.

Will thought about how he had faced so much danger and fear in his life, yet the one thing that left him paralysed was trying to tell Hannibal that he loved him, wanted him, in every possible way.

What if it ruined the dynamic they had. The murder and domesticity was a comfortable juxtaposition for Will. What would happen if they added that intimacy, that sexual curiosity, and the whispering of ‘I utterly adore you and I cannot imagine a moment on this world, or the next, without you’. Perhaps that sort of love wasn’t meant for terrible creatures like them. Why ruin it now?

Will laughed as he repeated the doubtful train of thought, once again talking himself out of disclosing his feelings.

Hannibal tilted his head slightly as Will made the sound.

“Nothing,” Will shook his head, dismissing the curious amusement in his companions’ eyes.

“If you don’t wish to celebrate Will, I can remove the tree and we do not have to mention it any longer.” Hannibal almost sounded defeated, it was a minuscule difference in the tone of his voice, not detectable to most, but Will knew him too well to miss it.

“No, no, we’ll do it. If anything it’s an excuse for you to cook a lavish meal and for me to drink an abundance of that good whiskey you keep telling me to save.” Will sensed this was about more than just the notion of Christmas, it was about Hannibal being vulnerable and wanting to share experiences with Will. Will could have easily told him he thought the holidays were trivial and walked straight out the door, leaving Hannibal with the uncomfortable pit of rejection in his stomach.

It had happened before. In the early days, when Hannibal had attempted to build normalcy between the two and Will was still grieving his past life, taking any opportunity to direct his anger at the man who instigated it all. Will cringed at the memory of him throwing a plate across the room when Hannibal attempted to discuss joining Will for fishing during one evening when they were sat down for dinner. Hannibal just remained seated in his place, looked up at Will with an empty expression, and then continued his meal without another word. Will had come a long way since those random outbursts.

The smile was back on Hannibal's face, Will felt warmth at being the reason it was there. “I’m glad. Thank you Will”

“Don’t thank me. You’re the one doing the cooking.” Will snorted, “Uh-do we even have decorations?”

“I took the liberty of purchasing some.”

“Of course you did.”

* * *

The next day was Christmas Eve. Will was walking Sephie in his lunch break from the boat yard where he had been working as a mechanic for the past year. He stopped in front of the antique book store he had been unconsciously gravitating towards the last week. He stared through the window at the small book on display. It was a book of folktales; a Lithuanian children’s book. Will only knew this as he had looked up the familiar yet completely foreign language when the book first caught his eye. Hannibal still had a collection of books in his mother language that Will had perused one boring, rainy afternoon.

After securing Sephie outside, Will walked into the shop. The smell of old books provided some comfort to him.

“Hi, can I help you?” The old woman at the cashier smiled politely at Will.

“Hello, uh the book out the front, the Lithuanian one.”

“Ah yes, something of a rarity. A 1951 edition. My business partner said it was a silly buy as there isn’t much appetite for those sort books in our small town. But those tales were firm favourites of my father, I let my heart rule my head there. It was just so unusual to find something like this from those times.” She told Will sentimentally and moved towards the front of the store to collect the book.

Will swallowed his anxiety. “My partner is originally from there.” Were they partners? That’s what they told locals. Hannibal once explained that it was the easiest explanation as to why two middle-aged men lived together in a cabin far from the main town.

“Oh well, yes this would be a lovely gift! Every child in Lithuania knows those stories by heart.”

Will simply nodded as she rung the book through the cashier machine. The usually frugal man almost flinched at the price, and then he remembered who it would be intended for. 

“May I pick it up later this afternoon. I work at the boat yard and-“

“Of course, of course! Wouldn’t want it to be ruined!”

Will paid for the goods, said his farewell to the friendly woman and left, trying to temper down the self-doubt and questioning as to why he had just purchased Hannibal a gift, a very personal one at that.

* * *

Will took his work boots off at the door and placed his jacket on the hook in the hallway. He trudged through the kitchen, murmured a quick ‘hello’ to Hannibal who was preparing dinner, and dashed to his room storing the present and wrapping paper underneath his bed as if it were shameful contraband.

‘I don’t have to give it to him.’ Will attempted to calm his nerves while he jumped in the shower to rid himself of the day’s oil and grime.

After he had cleaned up, Will hastily wrapped the present and berated his skills, wondering how someone could get wrapping a rectangular gift so wrong.

“Will?” Hannibal’s footsteps echoed as he walked towards the room and knocked.

“Yes?” Will replied in a high pitched strangled tone, all but threw the gift back under his bed.

He jumped up and swung the door open. Hannibal’s eyes swiftly looked towards Will’s bare chest and then back up to his face. Will felt his ears go red, he swallowed loudly and turned to put a shirt on.

“Dinner will be ready soon if you wanted to join. Christmas Eve is an important event of itself in Europe, so I’ve prepare a celebratory dish.”

Will nodded aware of this, motioning for Hannibal to lead the way into the dining area of the cabin. He stopped when he saw the decorated table. Elk antlers carefully intertwined with freshly cut fir, pine cones and red berries formed the centrepiece, which sat upon the blood-red runner on the table. The place-settings were offset by intricately folded napkins. An array of candles provided the only source of light in the room, effusing a warm and intimate feeling.

“Hannibal you didn’t have to do all this,” Will said softly, touched that Hannibal went to the effort to make this a special event. 

Hannibal just shrugged one shoulder as if to say it was nothing. “If you wanted to serve the wine that is decanting on the side it would be appreciated.”

Then he walked away to plate their dinner.

“Long pig?” Will questioned mischievously as they sat down to dine.

“Another tradition,” Hannibal had glint in his eye as he sampled the merlot.

Will gave him a sincere look, feeling honoured that Hannibal was sharing this with him.“It looks delicious and impossibly too much for the two of us.”

Hannibal laughed musically, “Well, it is a notoriously indulgent holiday. We’ll have leftovers for tomorrow.”

They tucked into their meals, making easy conversation; the usual stuff about the preparation and origin of the meal, Will’s day at work, Hannibal’s new composition on the harpsichord he recently purchased.

When they had finished their dessert, Hannibal stood up and collected their empty dishes. Will made a move to do the same. Typically the two worked in tandem when washing up, with Will washing and Hannibal drying. Tonight was different.

“Why don’t you take a seat in the living room Will? Try to relax and pour us some of the Dalmore 62 scotch you’ve had your eye on.” Hannibal teased Will and proceeded to walk to the kitchen to finish clearing up.

Will did as he was told and made himself comfortable, nursing his drink by the fire, admiring their Christmas tree.

“Pleasant?” Hannibal joined him moments later, sitting on the other side of the couch and picked up his glass that Will had poured for him.

“Mmhmm, very.” Will responded.

Hannibal took a sip, closed his eyes and licked his top lip sensuously. Will refrained from making a noise.

Hannibal hummed in appreciation, “Yes, quite worth the $160,000 price tag I think.”

Will nearly choked on his mouthful at that. After he recovered he gave Hannibal an incredulous look.

Hannibal chuckled and placed his glass on the side table, “Will, why not allow yourself to enjoy these things. Before you knew the cost, you enjoyed it so happily, it provided you with pleasure. So why should the worth of it change that.”

Will laughed at the insanity of it all. Then raised his glass in mock toast and downed the last sip. Hannibal’s eyes crinkled with amusement as he watched Will.

The two sat in a comfortable silence as they watched the flames lick and crackle the logs in the fireplace.

Will noticed out of the corner of his eye that Hannibal was rhythmically tapping a finger on his knee. Perhaps the only indication of nerves that Hannibal had ever shown Will. He frowned slightly.

“Will, I wish to give you a gift. Would you accept it or be offended?”

Despite his reluctance, Will answered with.“Yes, I think that would be fine.”

Hannibal stood gracefully and collected Will’s present from it’s hiding spot under the tree.

“Surprised I didn’t notice that.” Will mumbled as he turned to face the other man.

Hannibal handed Will the perfectly wrapped small box, complete with a lavish bow. Will turned over the label in hand that simply read; _Dearest Will, Merry Christmas. Yours, Hannibal._

With slightly shaking hands, Will tore open the paper and opened the box which contained a key. Will raised an eyebrow at Hannibal who had seemingly stopped breathing.

“Come,” Hannibal walked over to the door. The two men gathered their winter coats and boots and stepped outside. Will followed Hannibal’s trail to the abandoned garage across from the house. They didn’t use it to house the truck as it was hardy enough to endure the weather and was used almost daily. They also didn’t have a great amount of possessions to justify using the space for storage.

“If you would Will,” Hannibal motioned to the lock on the door.

Will acquiesced and opened the door. The two stepped into the dark space. Hannibal flicked a light switch by the door which illuminated the area in a soft glow. The space had been converted into a den. Alongside a work bench for manual labour, there was a desk set up for fly tying. Along the back wall displayed a range of fishing equipment. The window, which Will assumed had been added when the space was converted into a more homely room, held a stunning view of the hills and the forests surrounding their home. By the window, was a comfortable reading chair, housing a pile of books on the seat. There was even a dog bed for Sephie.

Will was speechless.

“The space has been converted. There’s heating, water and electric.” Hannibal spoke very matter-of-factly, in a way that could only be nerves. He feared that Will would think this was too much, too far. Hannibal strode over to the small kitchen area containing a sink, cupboards and a small stove with a kettle; intending to demonstrate the added facilities.

“Hannibal,” Wills voice was thick with emotion.

Hannibal finally looked at Will and walked back over to him. He spoke quietly, “You value your own space and I feel that we haven’t necessarily accommodated for that since we came here. I know that it is something you would never ask for, never bother someone else about. You have a right to be at peace Will. To embrace little moments of joy. To be able to escape and not have to explain it to me.”

Will restrained himself from crying, “Thank you Hannibal, truly.” He touched the man’s hand lightly, fingers caressing his palm, chancing holding it tightly, then giving it a quick squeeze.

Hannibal’s eyes filled with adoration as he returned the grasp.

Will cleared his throat and let go. “Well, you’ve made my gift look pathetic.”

Hannibal smiled gently. “What ever it may be Will, I am sure I will treasure it.”

They took the winding path back and tapped their boots against the wall to remove any snow, before entering the warmth of the cabin.

“I’ll be one second.” Will put his hand on Hannibal’s shoulder, wanting to touch the man again before leaving to obtain the item from his bedroom.

Will took a deep breath to steel his nerves and returned to the living area, where Hannibal was sat back on the couch and had poured them both another drink. Will passed the gift to Hannibal who took it gently, weighing it in his hands.

“Can you guess what it is?” Will joked to diffuse his apprehension. He was referencing the obvious shape of the book.

Hannibal made quick work of the wrapping paper and exposed the cover of the book. Silence fell over the room.

After a moment that felt like eternity to Will, Hannibal took an audibly shaky breath.

“Oh Will,” Hannibal whispered as a silent tear fell down his cheek. “Mischa and I used to read this. Or rather, I used to read to her.” Hannibal gave a hauntingly sad laugh.

Will was unsure of what to do with this information, Hannibal only spoke about Mischa a handful of times and even then it was not as personal as recalling fond memories like this.

He panicked at seeing the usually composed man cry, “I’m sorry Hannibal, I’m sure I can take it back. It was stupid of me. God I’m -.”

Hannibal put a firm hand on Will’s jaw and pulled him close. He met Will’s lips with a fierce passion. Will sat like a statue, shocked by the movement, and then suddenly responded. His eyes fluttered closed and matched Hannibal’s lips moving in turn. Hannibal, enthused by this reaction, deepened the kiss. Will groaned obscenely as Hannibal’s tongue licked his bottom lip before sliding into Will’s mouth to meet his. Will lifted a hand to intertwine with Hannibal’s silver-grey hair, losing himself in the moment, just enjoying this. Enjoying Hannibal.

They parted, both panting, looking slightly dishevelled. Hannibal leant his forehead against Will’s, gazing into his eyes.

“Was that a tradition?” Will smirked, feeling a weight lifted from him as he slipped his hands into Hannibal’s.

Hannibal gave a genuine laugh. “Thank you Will, you’ll never understand how much it means to me.”

With their hands still linked together, Will shifted his eyes to the clock above the fireplace. It was just past midnight.

“Hannibal,” Will could hear his heart beating in his chest. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, my dear Will.” Hannibal placed a kiss lightly at Will’s temple.


End file.
